They come from the sand, ready
in tank suits and floral caps
with territorial air and scorn
for those who waste time lying in the sun.
They are like sea turtles, from their sense of purpose,
to the color of their skin to their wrinkled everything.
They trudge on shore but then swim forth
in straight lines cut with punctual strokes and eyes
fixed on a horizon beyond the horizon, closing
for the nares to take in the waft of brine.
They keep swimming back and forth and never talk
counting silently, in a self-devised mantra mode.
And the October sea stays calm, nurturing
and warm – because it knows.
They are like sea turtles
only that their heads always stay above,
as their statement of dignity and manifesto,
and they always return to the shore.
"Late Swimmers" belongs to the chapbook In Womanly Fashion.